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For years I had carried around a very large purse (a “portable CVS” as my mother used to call it) brimming with everything from matches to a first aid kit. Included were packets of Cottonelle, Clorox wipes, a sewing kit, pencil sharpeners, a fairly large bottle of water, a flash drive, a phone, phone charger, hand lotion, tampons, multiple lipsticks, tissues, safety pins, a notebook for writing down random thoughts, a thesaurus, receipts for every purchase in the last seven years, and no less than fifteen Bed, Bath, & Beyond coupons. Also included was my wallet with about 4 lbs. of change. The parents on my sons’ sport teams knew me as the lady who came to the games really prepared.

Yesterday we dismantled a life. My siblings and I gathered together at my late mother's home to sift through her belongings. Seventy-four years of stuff cramped the walls and drawers. When I walked into her closet, I expected to find rows of blouses and bottoms, but the hangers were bare, our sister having already generously given away the clothes to the nurses who cared for Mom in her final weeks. The floor, however, was covered in shoes.